


Skin Stains

by novusavis



Series: Take Back The Pines [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Backstory, Bill is a horrible person, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mild Blood, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Torture, Very small amount of fluff, about four years prior to the events of TBTP, as usual, very briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 15:53:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8997223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novusavis/pseuds/novusavis
Summary: It is at the age of fifteen years old when Paige realizes that there will be no one who can ever compare to Dipper in the slightest.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, it's been a while.... ^^"  
> I'm sorry this came out before the actual next chapter did. This month was just so stressful and exhausting that, rather disappointingly, despite being on break, it's almost like all my creativity has been drained. I am working on the next chapter, I promise, but for whatever reason this story wanted to be told first, and who am I to argue with my muse?  
> Anyway, there will be a better explanation for my absence when I upload the new chapter, which will hopefully be sometime soon. This piece has helped my revive my writing, I think, so I hope I can write it soon.

It is at the age of fifteen years old when Paige realizes that there will be no one who can ever compare to Dipper in the slightest. It’s winter, a bitter and hostile bite in the air and a thick coat of snow smothering the landscape, and Paige is restless. Bill has been pushing them to their limits, their training growing more vigorous and exhausting with each passing day. Paige has become accustomed to the sight of blossoming purple bruises and inflamed cuts on her body when she briefly glances in the mirror: she can’t imagine a time when her torso was smooth and exempt of blotches of discoloration and the rough ridges of scars.

Some injuries she brushes off as her own failures. Failure to have reactions to rival a lightning strike. Failure to deliver a blow of enough power to send her foe reeling. Failure to develop and tame her newfound flourishing magic spark. Failure to keep her mouth shut, even when she was well aware of the consequences. Paige had long ago accepted the stains the seeped much deeper than the physical skin, because she is adaptable and will not fall apart.

What she can not stand- never could and never will be able to- is witnessing Dipper’s suffering in her name. When she screws up, Dipper is there to take the fall. When her reactions turn sluggish, his are even more so, as though stuck in a jar of molasses. When her blows lack in strength, his land even less efficiently. When her magic falls short of expectations, his dangerously fluctuates to draw the negative attention away. When she mouths off, Dipper acts as a shield and snaps even more venomously. And the consequences, the punishment, is also explicitly present in Dipper’s mind, but he never hesitates. Instead, while being hauled away by demons or sometimes even an outraged Bill himself, Dipper will simply glance over his shoulder to look back at her, a small yet comforting smile softening his face.

But the worst punishment is always delivered after their escape attempts. Paige had thought that this time would be different, would be the one. Despite the unwelcoming and hostile bite of winter, Paige and Dipper had planned to try their hand, again, at fleeing. They decided while it was risky to test the temperament of mother nature during this particular season, it was also ideal because what moron would try to run away during the winter during blizzard season? They had slipped away during the late night, using a hushedly murmured spell for night vision to compensate for the absent moon. It went surprisingly well at first. Dipper had wisely brought along a map and tracked their movements with a sharp yet tired gaze. Bundled in several cozy layers of sweaters, hats, and mittens- all of which Paige is proud to claim as her own knitting work- the pair hiked away from the looming pyramid fortress, making steady progress while stealthily avoiding patrols.

It’s night, the inky sky shyly hiding behind fresh, fluffy clouds. They hadn’t lit a fire and instead huddled together, Paige’s head resting snugly on Dipper’s padded shoulder. He holds his hands cupped out in front of them, images of wolves, lions, dragons, and so on dancing in his palms, bathing the pair in soft blues and gentle purples. A soft smile graces her lips, honey golden and apple green eyes glistening with happiness and ease. Dipper speaks in a hushed, but still playful tone, describing an adventure from the summer before it all. Paige bursts into melodic laughter at a particularly embarrassing part, earning an amused huff and a slight shove of a shoulder from Dipper. Her laughter and happiness, however, is never meant to be something of long life and health, because a cold voice shatters the spell of giddiness that freedom had briefly granted them.

“That is quite an amusing story. Though, why you felt the need to come all the way out here, in the middle of winter, no less, to tell it is beyond me.” Paige jerks up, spine straightening stiffly, and Dipper gasps quietly, eyes widening.

Bill stands before them, shrouded in shadow, and despite the feigned ease and normality in his voice, the words have a venomous bite. Golden eyes keep them rooted to the spot, the pupils paper thin slivers of anger and rage. Rather abruptly, Bill strides forward, grabbing them both by the arm, claws piercing their skin. Paige hates watching four days of hard work burn away to nothing in the millisecond Bill spends teleporting them back.

The room is small and unassuming, the walls a dull dreary gray, but Paige knows this section of the castle well, can remember which scars have history here. Still, she holds her chin up high, eyes blazing with defiance. Dipper, however, clenches his jaw, eyebrows puckering in concern, and looks at the floor. The dream demon paces the width of the room several times, before coming to a halt in front of the teens.

“You would think,” He begins, voice much like the winter conditions outside- cold, bitter, resentful, and seeking vengeance with a passion. “That after enough failures in your little stunts that you would accept your situation, but that’s obviously not the case.” The blond whirls around to face them, watching their faces closely as he continues. “Pain is an amusing thing, really. It can make people sing the most appealing songs, can force even the toughest and most stallion-like souls into broken submission.”

Paige smirks, scarlet hair swishing behind her as she tilts her head mockingly, “Ah, yes, but some stallions are born forever free, and the only way to break them is through death. That seems a little counterintuitive, though, as that would be much more of a liberty than submission could ever be.”

The demon pauses, eyes narrowing, but in a flash he has straightened up with a broad foreboding grin and laughs, “Ah yes, the strong-willed Paige. How young and naive you are.” He shifts, slowly coming to a stop in front of Dipper. A clawed hand grips the brunet’s chin and tilts it up, forcing mahogany irises to meet the demon’s cruel gaze, “Let’s start with you, shall we?”

Her breath catches and stutters in her throat, eyes widening, “What? No, I’m the one that planned everything! Dipper wouldn’t have done anything if I hadn’t pressured him to!”

A noise of acknowledgment rises from the back of the demon’s throat, but he’s already dragging Dipper away and through a metal door. “I am well aware of that, Miss Roscommon, but you did say that you can’t be broken.” Sighing in a mock of disappointment, Bill shoves Dipper further into the dark room ahead, turning to fix Paige with a cold gaze of fury. “And apparently you still haven’t learned anything from our past sessions, so I’ll be trying a different approach.” The door swings shut with a loud bang behind him, leaving Paige alone and separated from the pair.

And Paige learns that Bill was right. Pain can break anyone, even her. True, she isn’t in any physical pain beyond the puncture wounds on her arm, but Dipper’s screams are more wounding than any other punishment Bill had ever subjected her to. They had start a couple minutes after Bill shuts the door, an earsplitting and soul shattering sound. Tears run down her now blotchy cheeks, falling from her chin in a heavy and unrelenting stream as she kneels by the frigid metal door. Her voice had given out after an hour of pleading and sobbing for Bill to end his relentless attacks, and her hands have blooming bruises and in some places the skin has broken under the force of her fists beating the door. Hiccuping sobs wrack her body as she kneels there.

She falls to the floor in an unceremonious heap of tears and sniffles when the door flies open with a loud groan. Scrambling upright, Paige fixes Bill- whose hands are covered in a thick layer of crimson liquid, which also splatters his form and his face- with a murderous glare through tears, but the demon just snorts. He drops to a knee, golden eyes fixated on her own, gaze impassive.

“Don’t worry, I don’t have the time or interest to continue my work with you, sweetheart.” He coos, flashing a wicked grin in response to an furious growl from Paige. “Do you see what I mean? Music. Pain is like the bow of a violin, and I must say, Pinetree is a preferred instrument of mine. Sings rather beautifully when you know what strings to pluck.” He rises to his feet once more, raising a blood covered hand to his mouth, licking the sticky material off his fingers with a grin. “How’s the mustang holding up, I wonder?” Paige doesn’t respond, instead shuffling forward and shoving the demon to the side with her shoulder. As she hurriedly moves past him and into the room, Bill chuckles and strolls away.

Paige barely manages to keep a sob from clawing its way out her throat, the movement of her feet stuttering momentarily at the sight of her friend. Dipper is lying on a table, head slumped to the side and facing the wall opposite of her. His chest is bare, lacerations slicing and carving the once smooth skin into a pulpy, shredded expanse, oozing a rich crimson that stains his tan skin. Her brain shudders back to life, and she darts to his side in a flurry of flailing limbs and scarlet hair. Leaning over his form, Paige gently presses trembling fingers to the soft skin of his neck underneath the chin, a sigh of shaky relief escaping her when a weak yet stubborn pulse gently beats against her touch.

Scanning Dipper’s face, Paige is relieved to see only a couple dark bruises littering his jaw and cheeks. She makes quick work of checking the rest of him, wincing at the angry blistering burns on the soles of his feet, and then, for reassurance, Paige reaches out with her magic, completing one last examination. Dipper’s own magic is fluctuating and crackling dangerously, angry and raw from the earlier assaults. Pulling off one of her sweaters, Paige begins the process of ripping the material, using magic to condense the wool into something of a tighter weave, before working on disinfecting and dressing Dipper’s injuries.

Dipper stirs, groaning weakly, about an hour into her work. Paige immediately rushes to stand at his side, exhaling a shaking laugh as he blearily peers up at her. She gently cups his cheek in her hand, running her thumb over his cheekbone and over the tired skin underneath his eye. He offers a weak smile, eyes crinkling gently.

“Hey.”

Paige snorts, despite her best efforts to contain it. “Hey, you dork.”

His smile widens a fraction, but his eyebrows pucker in concern, “Where… where’s Bill? Is he gone?” Paige nods, her expression darkening, eyes hardening into a steely flint. “He… did he do anything to you?” Paige blinks, surprised, but worry and concern are written so clearly across his features that Paige simply sighs, shaking her head with a gentle smile that’s tinged with sadness. After everything, he’s still too busy worrying about you to even be bothered with his own personal health.

“No, he didn’t do anything,” At Dipper’s disbelieving look, Paige laughs, “I’m serious. He came out, taunted a bit and then left. I’m fine, I promise.” She holds out her pinky, a grin brightening her expression and her eyes glittering teasingly.

Despite his (not really) annoyed huff, Dipper slowly reaches up and grips her pinky with his own, shaking them twice before releasing. His head falls back to the table with a dull thud, and his eyes begin slipping shut once more, exhaustion taking over. Paige’s hand returns to his cheek, a comforting presence while he drifts off.

“Well, if you’re okay then I have no complaints.” Dipper murmurs, smiling gently through his quickly fading consciousness. Her smile slips away, mouth trembling and fighting to keep the corners of her mouth from twitching down. A couple tears glide down her cheeks as she presses a gentle kiss against Dipper’s forehead and constellation birthmark.

Dipper is always there, a steady presence at her side that never grows unsteady or unreliable in her times of need. Always there to take the fall, to ensure her safety and happiness, no matter the cost. Paige swallows thickly, gazing down at his sleeping form through her scarlet locks.

She knows she’ll never find anyone like him ever again. Someone so ready to sacrifice themselves for her happiness. And, in the dark corners of her mind, Paige fears the day will come when Dipper takes the final bullet for her.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoy that, you all seem rather fond of Paige and her relationship with Dipper, so should appease you all a bit, even if it is a little angsty. Thank you all for leaving such wonderful comments on that last chapter, they are all very sweet and amusing to read. Please leave comments and thoughts on this as well!
> 
> *Also, in case anyone is wondering, I have a playlist of any song I find that suits me for writing. This is a playlist of songs ranging from those I listen to when writing tense fight scenes to the sad angst  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLGVV9nY16f1ZKgcqnkIXYspC7QldYASKr
> 
> **Also Also, the contest I mentioned last time is ending tonight at 11:59pm Pacific time. In case there are any last minute people who missed the original announcement or changed their mind about joining, feel free to talk to me about getting a possible time extension. Link for the contest info:  
> http://bukubird.deviantart.com/journal/TBTP-Contest-645338881


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